Gotham Tales
by Jenna Von Cannon
Summary: Gotham's original problem is starting up once again. A young woman is beginning to draw the Mob back up so that she may take Gotham for her own. But with that she'll need the help from a certain clown and a man who wants to see all of Gotham's fear. OC
1. Chapter 1

Before the Joker came to town, the Mob ran Gotham City like it was nothing. To them, the city was their playground in which all the inhabitants played by their rules; And by their rules it was really his rule: Carmine Falcone. The Roman ran everything and could do anything his black little heart desired. But when he decided to test his power against Doctor Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as Scarecrow, he got a taste of the Fear Toxin. Needless to say it slammed the door shut on his power and gave way for others to step up and control the Falcone Crime Family. Sal Maroni. The charming Italian who helped give the Ace of Knaves a breakthrough in Gotham. Their problem was the Batman. They all knew it and so did the homicidal clown that runs the streets with a blade and an explosive. But the problem became too much for all. The Joker made it easier for Mob Bosses to take care of their business as the Police and the Flying Rodent had to worry about the menacing man with greasepaint smeared upon his features. He gave birth to Two-Face, destroying an hope Gotham had to returning to the life once lived when Bruce Wayne was but a boy. But Arkham managed to gain a new member after the Prewitt Building incident. Gotham began to repair itself in simple things but certain people wouldn't allow it. The Mob has built itself back up due to one single being: Dominique Falcone.

Once again a new stream of corrupted Lawyers, Policemen, Judges, and everything in between came to be with her at the center of it all. The woman is Carmine Falcone's daughter and she doesn't exactly take after her father in certain senses. He'd prefer to just get things over with when it came to a person's death. The woman, commonly referred to 'The Devil In Black', would rather string a person up, constantly allow the person to float along the brink of death and then nurse them back to health. A disappearance may occur and if it has to do with Dominique, the body will not be found for another six months after with heavy lacerations and odd bruising. People who work along side of her believe her to be 'nuts' when she is actually quite sane. She just enjoys inflicting pain upon others and watching the facial muscles distort with a varied emotions. But this isn't all she does. Dom is behind most of the imports at the forbidden areas of Gotham City Harbor. She brings in highly illegal weaponry as well as most narcotics. She does all of this and yet still no arrest has ever been made.

But that was while The Joker was out, tearing the town a new hole. Now that he is in a padded cell the Batman has resumed his fight against the corrupt. Making it much harder to actually bring in items or attend a club once owned and operated by Carmine Falcone. He knows that Dominique is and has been up to things for quite some time he just hasn't had the opportunity to take action against her. But time and patience coincides with another and it's just a matter waiting until the last known Heir to the Falcone dynasty gets put away behind bars of any type.

* * *

That was a pilot of sorts for a new story I've been cooking up over the past few weeks. I am going to continue with it for as long as I see fit. Let me know if any of you are interested in actually reading it. It's going to involve an Original Character (Dominique Falcone), The Joker, Batman, and Jonathan Crane (All Nolanverse). I've certainly got a plot working up. So review it to let me know.

The story takes place after The Dark Knight and there will be some references to what Dom was up to while the actions in the movie were taking place.


	2. Chapter 2

"We've got a new player rising," A random officer says as he rushes to keep up with the Police Commissioner.

"Who is he?" Gordon questions as he pushes a door open, stepping through with the same hurried pace.

"Not a he sir," He holds out a large picture in which the tired man grabs instantly, "A she."

Jim glances down to the photo for an instant but returns his gaze to the hall ahead as he has to weave in and out of people and other random objects placed in various places. This is just what Gotham needs, a new player. The town hasn't settled out after The Joker incident but how can they? Many people believe that the events brought on by the homicidal clown was much worse than what was before. The Arkham breakout brought on by Ra's Al Ghul and Jonathan Crane was bad, Carmine Falcone's reign of corruption was bad, but the Joker was the worst Gotham has seen in a long while.

Pushing the door open to his office he comes to a complete halt. Standing against a large window, the night's sky washing away the eyes of any onlookers, is the vigilante himself: Batman. He moves forward as Gordon moves to the large desk, turning on a lamp to offer the faintest of light. He slaps the picture down on his desk to offer the Dark Knight a glance but he remains standing, already knowing who was captured in the frame.

"You know who this woman is?" He questions as he takes his seat, sinking comfortably into the plush leather.

"Dominique Falcone," He rasps out in the deep, husky voice.

"Falcone? As in Carmine Falcone?" He curses under his breath silently, "I wasn't aware he had a daughter," He states as he glances down to the picture once more.

"She is the most recent offspring of Falcone from a recent marriage made twenty-five years ago," The Batman says.

"What happened to his two sons?" Gordon inquires.

"The two vanished about the same time of the Arkham breakout."

"She have anything to do with it?"

"Probably." The man says shrinking back into the shadows to make his leave.

"Are you going to take matters into your own hands?" He asks, finally looking up to see the Batman had disappeared, unknowing that he is still in the room.

The answer is always a yes when it deals with people like this. If Dominique had left a paper trail, body trail, anything, Gotham's finest would have been able to put her behind bars. But she is clean and tidy. The female Falcone makes sure she doesn't leave anything behind, she can't afford to. What happened with her Father was something that wouldn't and could be allowed to her, the Bat knows that. So trying to bring her in on things that would be circumstantial wouldn't hold up in court at the moment. But a person messes up so easily and when she does, Batman vows to turn her pretty ass over to Gordon.

* * *

Winter in Gotham is such a wonderful time. The railing, fountains, and buildings are covered by the sheek snow. People running around wrapped up in the warmest of clothes as they try to do some shopping or things of the sorts. Then there are other people who could care less about the climate and it's inhabitants and care only about themselves and their pleasures.

Tracking the little druggie down had been a bit difficult. He never stays in one place for too long nor does he have a place to stay anyways. But the scent seems to have grown stronger as more and more people will confirm that they saw a rather gaunt looking man walking by, coughing, stumbling and doing god knows what else. There was even an accusation that he shouted something or another that made no sense at all but this came from a man who was quite fearful of anything and everything. Could it be that there are still people alive battling the effects of the fear toxin? Dom doesn't know nor does she honestly care.

The black Lexus comes to a stop outside a dingy looking building. The door opens as the driver takes Dom's black gloved hand and mentions something about the beggars saying he went inside. The eyes that match the Winter season give the place a once over as she walks, crunching on the snow with her black heels. She waves her driver away, indicating for him to stay in the car with the heat on. She'll need it she figures since she is dressed in a black dress that comes down to her knees. Dominique had been interrupted at a dinner party when someone told her they couldn't find Vincent Razorblade, her drug lackey.

She pulls the black pea coat closer to her body as she attempts to open the front door but no luck since a deadbolt was there, keeping the chains together. Nothing a bullet won't fix. Digging into her large black purse she pulls her trademark silver pistol, steps away slightly, and gives the lock a good four rounds. Exhaling, seeing the fog the warmth of her breath caused, she yanks the chains from the door and heads inside, her heels clacking away. There was no way she would take her shoes off for a fear of getting some sort of disease.

Rubbing her hands together and pursing her nude pouty lips, she stands for a moment before she finally sees a bit of light peeking out from underneath a door. She steps softly though he may already know that someone is in here. Knowing the man inside he may be too stoned or fucked up to realize anything. With a quick twist of the doorknob and a forceful push the door swings open to reveal Dominique standing in the doorway, taking off the black gloves and slipping them into her purse.

Stepping into the room, her eyes glance around and finally come upon the half dressed man, sprawled out on the haggard looking mattress. Noticing the joint in his hand she can do nothing but smirk slightly. Walking into the room further, closer to the bed as she unbuttons her coat, tossing it to the area next to Vincent, the little lamp was doing a good job in keeping the room heated.

"You always strip down like this when you smoke?" She does find it attractive but she isn't the pursuer; She's the persuee. "Button your fucking pants."

The man simply looked up at her as his head rested against the old mattress. Vincent is a rather skinny, gaunt, looking man from some other area than Gotham. His accent feeds into the thought giving the Mob Princess an area of the U.K. Thought it didn't really matter. His is frail, skinny, pale, an such an asshole to anyone other than her. Sure he wants to tell her just what he thinks of her yet he knows to keep his mouth shut on accord of Dominique being able to supply him with an ample of free drugs in order to keep a person on the streets so that she may know anything and everything going on. The British punk gives her a glare as he reaches down to place the buttons back together as Dom takes the joint from his hand and walks from the room meaning for him to follow behind her. Audible protests and declarations of what names suit her brings a smile to her lips.

* * *

"Crane was bailed out Sir," Alfred's voice comes from behind the Vigilante.

"I know Alfred," Bruce replies with his eyes still glued to the black and white pictures of who he suspects got the mad Psychologist.

"Do you have any idea as to whom it may be?" His foot steps are heard approaching behind him.

"I've got an idea," He speaks picking up a picture to hand it to his Butler.

Alfred Pennyworth places his trusty glasses upon his face to get a more focused look. The photo looks like it could have been taken back in the seventies. The woman has large, round black sunglasses on. Her long, black hair is dancing around freely in the Gotham wind. The black pea coat is buttoned in full as a black scarf adorns her neck. Her large lips are parted ever so slightly as she steps into a black Lexus, unaware of any camera taking shots of her.

"Who is this sir?" He asks, setting the picture back down.

"Dominique Falcone," He voices with a sigh, "Carmine Falcone's daughter."

"Eh? He's got another one of those brats roaming Gotham?" The obvious distaste for Carmine and his spawns.

"Seems so. Twenty-five years ago he had an affair with a French woman who he later wed. The two only had one child and that would be," He points to a black and white picture, "Dominique."

"I thought Carmine had other children," Alfred says, adjusting his black wool coat, "Aren't they the ones directing the whole Mob scene, Sir?"

"The sons disappeared after the Arkham breakout. The other 'daughter' has vanished as well. My only guess would be that Miss Falcone is behind it all. Seems to be smarter than the usual Falcone spawns Gotham has ran into," He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You'll be investigating her soon, yes?"

Bruce gave a hard glance to the pictures once more with knitted brows, "Sooner or later. Crane's whereabouts seem to be more important to me than anything else with the Joker behind the Arkham bars."

* * *

**Debronzed, I got your message on your post lol.**

So, chapter one to Gotham Tales. It's going to get more interesting as more and more posts come along. I'm going to be able to post like once a week for the next couple of weeks. I am moving in with a friend and also working longer hours. But you'll still get your updates to this story as well as all my other ones that aren't already completed. Review if you'd like, please, and until next time... Later folks.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all for the reviews, it means alot. So this story, as well as "Sunset In The Night" will be the ones I update. "Tradeoff" and "Sleepwalking" are complete. I am currently working on the next chapter for "Sunset" so expect to see that in the next few days. Please read and enjoy everything. Reviews are favored but I'm not going to be.

In this chapter there will be flashbacks of what went on during The Dark Knight. I haven't written Dom into any scene with the Joker already there so even in present time the two have never met, face to face. You'll see when it takes place during the movie and when it comes back to the present time in Gotham. Enjoy!

* * *

-Scene takes place after The Joker's first meeting with The Mob, **during the movie.**-

"He wants half, Dom." Maroni says as the light finishes warming the end of his cigar.

"The 'two-bit whack job' wants half of what we've worked for?" She asks as those tender lips push the cigarette smoke from the kissable lips.

"Yeah," He points with his signature smirk, "What you're fathers been workin' for.

"He claims to be able to 'kill' Batman?" She inquires, flicking her ash to the tray.

"He says 'If you're good at something never do it for free'," Maroni replies, releasing the cigar smoke.

"So he wants a fee for something we need taken care of," A drag of her cigarette, "I like this man more and more ya know, Sal?" She chuckles though he isn't sure why.

"He's like a prostitute but even better! Instead of paying him for what we want-- the batman off our trail-- he'll kill him and Gotham will once again be ours," She says with a smile before the very cherry launches into the tray before her.

"You like that freak?" He inquires blowing the thick smoke out of those sharp Italian lips.

"Don't get jealous Maroni. Hire the clown. When he does what he claims then we kill him," Sultry eyes narrowing to slits, "Understand?"

* * *

-**Present Time-**

Gotham City has begun to pick itself back together now that Batman's greatest rival is behind the doors of Arkham. The caped crusader is wanted for the 'killings' Harvey "Two Face" Dent committed. He stalks the roofs of building keeping the peace while the citizens sleep soundlessly in their bed. Organized crime has begun picking itself back together, controlling much of the city once again. The Joker has been in Arkham for two months, next week being three. People still glance over their shoulders at night, walking wherever their destination is. Every time a breaking story hit's the airwaves they hold their breaths and cross their fingers hoping it is anything but an Arkham breakout. Hope has returned to many but to others, they believe no building can hold the Ace of Knaves and that it is only a matter of time until he blows the walls out of the building and slips his purple jacket back onto his slouched shoulders.

On the outskirts of Gotham is the Falcone Manor, the place Dominique grew up in as well as those pesky half-brothers of hers. The home is equipped with six bedrooms and bath, an exquisite kitchen that a chef would be completely thrilled to own, a heated pool, and many other rooms and items a person would wish for. The floors are nothing but marble as the counters and tubs through the house are a deep onyx marble. Various pictures are scattered about the halls and rooms, Dom's deceased mother to thank. The outside is just as beautiful with the cool colored bricks placed strategically. The path that leads from the driveway, and street, are various sizes of cobblestones bedded deep into the ground.

Behind those large double Oak doors the sounds of barking echoes the halls. Two German Shepherds, one completely black and the other with the traditional black and brown colorings. They move through the halls as a meeting is in occurrence. Two burly Italian men stand behind a man with glasses and a smug smirk. The woman stands in front of him, a glass of wine in her hand as she swishes it back and forth in the clear crystal.

"You've got the layout for me, Dr. Crane?" The set of twin blues stare at each other.

"I do. I went through much to get these for you," His hand raises as it is clutched around the handle of the black briefcase.

"You use to work at Arkham, Jonathan. You didn't have to go through anything," She replies before taking a sip from the clear liquid.

"_Use_ to work there Dominique. If any of the staff were to see me on the premises I'd be taken in or shot immediately," He says lowering his hand back down to his side.

"That's right. You tried to poison the whole city that one time. I remember now," She says with a smirk as she moves down to the leather chair behind her.

He scoffs as those lovely cornflower blue eyes of his roll upward. Pinching the bridge of his nose, glasses raising slightly, he shifts his weight on his feet, "I still don't know why you want to do this Dom. I really don't."

Placing the glass down, away from her lips, the Devil in Black stares at the man with the black slacks and blue button up on. Raising a heeled leg she crosses it over the other one. Why does she want the layout for the infamous Gotham Asylum? It's simple. Batman has ruined three shipments that needed to come in and that's bad for business. The winged rodent has begun to meddle in the affairs of the Mob Princess. So, why not let the Clown out of the box? He'll be busy with The Joker so that Dominique can continue with her life of corruption and manipulation.

"You know just as well as I do. I hear Batman is closing in on your trail Crane. You should appreciate this. Now, give me the briefcase," No reason in her voice at all.

"You know, your way of thinking is completely illogical. I'd love to have a sit down with you to understand the way you think Miss Falcone."

"I think our 'sit down' occurred already the first night when I told you what I wanted," She replies with a raised eyebrow.

"That wasn't a sit down. That was a lay down," He chuckles in reply ignoring the two men behind him giving a cough.

"Whatever. Give me what I want and leave," She says with a sigh and roll of her eyes.

"As you wish Dom. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into," He steps forward, handing the briefcase to the seated woman.

"I just love that care in your voice," She smiles as she places the case onto her lap. "We'll see each other again."

* * *

It's 'Casual Friday' at Arkham. What that means is the patients get to roam around in their cells, the activity room, as they like in what they were before their entrance. For The Joker this means his face gets to be covered in that familiar greasepaint. The straightjacket is snug, almost too much for comfort, as he is led down the hall by two armed guards towards the activity room. He stares blankly ahead assumed to be under the effects of his medication. There are a few that are actually in his system. The pill he is given to actually sleep at night still causes those black covered lids to look a bit drowsy. The taste of it still embedded on his tongue as he prefers to chew it to pieces instead of swallowing it whole. The other medications as far as anti-psychotics have been kept hidden in his room. When he is instructed to take it he slides it behind that full bottom lip, his stained teeth keeping it locked in place.

"Alright Clown. Enjoy your hour of games," A guard says as the two stop directly at the entrance.

"Gonna play me some chess… in my mind," He glances back to the two as they smirk at him.

He very well can't play chess due to that jacket that is keeping his arm secured around his body. His choice in words are a given, wanting them to think that he is completely under the influence of his prescribed drugs. Taking a seat next to a man who stares blankly ahead, he glances to him. His mouth is hanging down with saliva threatening to drip down onto the Arkham ordered white pants. Brows raise as his head turns with a quick jerk to see what his neighbor is looking at. A slinky being moved back and forth by an older female patient. His gaze stays on the same plastic slinky watching as it's body moves with the tilt of the woman's hands. He blinks once and turns away.

"Stupid thing is hypnotic," He mutters under his breath.

His gaze is directed to nothing in particular. In all honesty the Joker has grown quite bored with the current happenings as of late. He allowed himself to stay put, enjoy a nice breather while he figures out a new way of taking Gotham by storm again. The people have been able to enjoy the peace and quite while the Clown Prince is hugging himself thanks to the handy straightjacket. But they know, he knows, that Arkham can't hold him forever as Gotham is destined to be his. A twitch as he thinks of Batman. That masked man must be so lonely without him out there roaming the streets. That thought alone makes him want to leap from the very seat his lovely ass is planted to but he doesn't just yet. There are enough crooked doctors, guards, and patients who could very well get him out of here in an instant but right now he has a game of chess to play.

"Alright Arty, take 176," He says watching a single man sit there moving various pieces around while Jack Napier counters each move in his mind.

* * *

**-During the movie; A day before the Chase sequence for Dent-**

"He wants a bazooka, Dom," Maroni says with a puff.

She glances over to him, turning Gotham News Tonight off with a flash. Rolling her head, a deep sigh given, as she looks to him fully. A finely groomed brow cocks into the air as she sees a cane being held tightly in his grasp. A closed mouth smile creeps onto her beautiful features while those icy eyes look down to his feet, struggling to keep standing. The old man must have tripped over something or another but that assumption doesn't keep Dominique from asking.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"Oh dis?" He glances to the cane and then down to his ankles, "Batman. Made me fall from some railin' down at a club."

"Oh," She says fighting a laugh, "You said a uh, bazooka? What the hell would he want one of those for?" She asks while leaning over to grab a menthol cigarette.

"Yeah. Not sure what for though," He shrugs, helping himself to a glass of Dom's already poured rum.

"I mean a bazooka, Sal?! Unless he wanted to blow something serious up there is nothing he'd need that for," She exclaims with a bust of smoke.

"He says he lost his other one but needs another," Taking a seat into the leather chair.

"The Joker had another one? Like another bazooka that can blow up a house if aimed correctly?" Brows raise as she yanks the rum glass from the table so that he can't take another sip.

"Eh, you're as surprised as me toots. But that's what he wants and you are the one to give it to em," He replies looking down at her lengthy legs.

"Don't you have a wife to be getting home to, Sal?" She asks noticing his gaze.

"Fine. Let him know I'll give him what he wants. Give me a day, if that. Either someone can ship it in to me or someone around here will have one," She replies exhaling the smoke from the cigarette.

"He's getting testy Dominique. Wantin' to meet the person that is doin' so many favors for him," He informs her as he stands.

"Well let him get testy. There is no way in hell that I'm getting anywhere near him let alone actually talk to him in person," She snorts with a slight tremble in her reply.

"Never thought I'd see tha day," He shakes his head while she gives him a glare, "Dom is actually scared of somethin'. Smart though, scared of The Joker. Anyone that steps foot into Gotham should be. The man don't got any rules Falcone. He will bite the hand that feeds."

-**End sequence-**


	4. Chapter 4

An alarm sounds throughout the building as various chunks of cement and brick are thrown from the building and into the streets. The only high security patient to step from his cell is the very one that she wants out: The Joker. The other ones are lost cases who are actually demented or insane to the point that they needn't be roaming the streets. A guard approaches with shadowed eyes. The two have a stare off, the Clown not being much of a threat due to the jacket. Finally the guard smirks and moves around, undoing the various straps until the restraining 'shirt' falls to the floor. His arms regain the freedom he once had as he tilts his head to the left, the sounds of popping being an undertone to the alarms setting off. The dark blond almost brown curls surrounding his unpainted face. Even though the Joker was once a very handsome man the look in his eyes, the scars adding, shows nothing but an unremorseful man with the wounds upon his face to tell a story of horror.

Following the guard, both striking down the ones who seem to be displeased with his 'escape', the guard leads him to the room so that he may regain the Royal Purple suit. His bare hands clench the fabric that has since been washed and dried. That smile creeps onto his face in such a sinister way that even the man who escorted him shuddered. It's been a while since the rich color was able to trace his shoulders and yet when he finally slipped it on a smile of satisfaction washes over his relaxed persona.

"Who do I uh, have the luxuries of the Great Escape?" He asks stripping the white Arkham shirt from his scarred torso and throws it to the ground.

"The Princess of the city," He replies, stepping out of the room.

"The Prin-cess.. Hmmm," Slipping on the odd blue hexagon-printed shirt, buttoning it up quickly.

"That's what the underground calls her. Sometimes Devil In Black-- take your pick," He shrugs, aiming the pistol at an approaching doctor, shooting him dead.

"Ah so it's the Falcone girl. What an in-ter-esting development," Pulling the purple slacks up and securing the button.

Next is the suspenders, slapping them against his shoulders. The emerald green vest slides on fluidly as the sounds of gunfire fills his perked ears. Quick fingers fix the green tie, securing it in place before cracking his neck. The lighter in weight and colored jacket slips on first followed by the royal purple trench immediately after. Those multicolored socks are rolled up as he slips the haggard shoes onto his feet. Finally the finishing touch to his outfit are the tight, deep purple wrist length gloves. Fingers dancing as the second skin conforms once more. Moving around he grabs the box that holds his chain wallet and various assortment of knives. More men have joined the party blasting away anyone who dares to stop the Clown Prince from leaving Arkham. Guards bodies litter the ground as he finally steps from the room and begins to descend the stairs, a full posse protecting him and ensuring he checks out of the Asylum. Batman certainly won't be arriving as it is three in the afternoon, the man behind the mask is currently out of the city for the night.

The double doors swing open, the sounds of siren filling the thick air. Smacking his lips together his dark eyes come to see two cars sitting, waiting to be occupied. A toss of keys as his gloved hand catches the shiny object. He understands, he always understands. One car is for him to leave and the other one is for Dominique's men. Well he certainly didn't expect to tag along with the others to return to her without looking completely appropriate. A rush in feet as everyone has already stuffed themselves inside. Both engines roar to life as the lights of the squad cars reflect on the buildings behind him. Just as he turns the car around a corner in the narrow street a police car skids to stop followed by others as a herd of officers flood Arkham, fearing the worst.

* * *

The walls are closing in as she scrunches up in a corner of her room. The black veil of her hair is matted down with sweat as Dom's nails dig into the floor and walls. Arms outstretched as if trying to keep her sitting body steady. Quick inhales and exhales come from the woman who suffers so horribly from anxiety and panic attacks. Ever since Crane flooded the city with his toxin Dom will have random moments in which the drug comes alive in her mind. There is no medicine at her house to stop it and she doesn't dare ask the Doctor for anything of that nature. There would be that all too great possibility he would give her something completely different to cause her to go off her rocker completely. When these 'attacks' happen the time varies. Some of them last for a few, very short minutes were as they can last for several hours. What begins it is her breathing as it can adjust itself to mimic the beating of her heart; quick and fast. Next the room seems to become dimmer and smaller forcing her into a corner or something of the likes to ensure nothing comes out of the woodwork to attack her. Dominique will try to calm herself but it'll never work. Flashes of images cross her closed mind as that horrible grin begins to talk without a face, much like the Cheshire Cat in Alice In Wonderland. Her primary fear is the Clown. Another image is of men with masks covering their mouths, gloved hands and a lab jackets. Her next fear is ending up in Arkham, just like her father.

Loud groans and screams of frustration as her hands come to her face, burying them deep within her palms. Tears on the verge of staining her cheeks. The attack is soon to pass as it has been going on for the past twenty five minutes. The rapid beats of her heart have begun to slow as her breathing attempts to find it's way back to normal before pure hyperventilation takes over. Lids clenching shut over the pure blue of her eyes, Dom's arms come to wrap themselves around her knees, bringing them to her chest. Resisting the urge to rock her body back and forth she begins to mutter to herself.

"Breathe… Calm… breathe… calm… calm down Dom," As she soothes herself.

Resting her forehead against her knees, she takes a few more deep breaths until she finally unclenches her fingers from the bone of her calves. Blinking a few times her focus became clearer as she remains in the same area for a few more minutes. Raising her head as it finds the wall behind her, leaning against it as shallow breaths are taken. Her body still jerked slightly from the body tremors from her panic attack. Dominique sits there for a few more minutes until she can feel her whole state of mind return to normal, body included. She feels drained, all the energy that was there before the whole incident has been zapped away completely. It was if there was a switch on her back that was flipped every so often so that she may power down as if she were some high-tech robot.

Her senses jump start when the loud vibration of her phone shakes against the floor around her. A hand shoots out as she picks the phone up, opening the text as she does so. Even this simple task takes more energy than usual. It is as if lead was injected into the bloodstream, her entire body, making it so much harder to move even a finger to a button.

"**Clowns out. Turn the tube on if you want to see his new home video."**

With an exasperated sigh and mutters of vulgar, her hand grips onto the edge of a desk to pull the dead weight of her body from the floor. Silent movements against the cold marble floor as she walks closer and closer to her bed before collapsing on it completely. A simple flick on the remote and the image on the large flat screen comes on. She doesn't even need to change the channel. On every single station news reports play. Showing scenes of Arkham, showing the cell that the Joker once resided in and finally the video he sent in.

The camera is close to his face showing the vivid red smeared against his scars and lips. The rest of his face coated in a thick white while his dark eyes are outlined in an even darker onyx. Yellow teeth flash to the camera in his wicked grin, laughing. **"Hello Gotham," **His voice rasps out but still with a hint of laughter, **"I'm back! Can the Batman come out to play?"** He says with malicious laughter.

"**I promise that I uh, will have him back a nine sharp****. But if Batsy is busy that means the Prince and uh, Princess-ah**** can have some alone time."** One last flash of his Cheshire smile and the camera quickly fades to black.

Dominique lays there, staring at the screen with such a dumbfounded look. The Princess? Furrowed brows as she rolls over on her back, a hand brushing across her forehead. The Mobster has no idea that people frequently uses the term 'Mob Princess' in describing her. 'Bitch', 'Ice Queen', 'Devil In Black'-- from her usual wardrobe of the dark material but never has she heard the term 'Princess' used to describe the ill willed woman. She situates herself the proper way so that she may pass out completely in the bed, not willing to be woken if the world were ending. That is until around three in the morning. A shiver passes through her body as if a spirit were there, hovering and watching. Magnificent blue eyes flutter open to the distant dark, gazing around sluggishly. Something feels out of the ordinary but she can't quite place a finger on it. Rising from her bed, turning the lamp on to give the room so light, hands rub against her face.

"You know… I've always thought the Mob people were rather ugly. Ju-sssst like their operation," The cool voice calls out from a hidden area.

Her heartbeat begins to increase as her palms begin to sweat. Everything in her Central Nervous System begins to send out waves of panic. To the eye Dominique Falcone is a well composed woman who doesn't allow any types of fear or paranoia show through. Fleeting thoughts may occur but unless it's when the remaining toxin sets in there is nothing to worry about. But when an actual fear shows up into the Manor, staying hidden in one of the many cornered shadows, is when that composure threatens to crack as if it were a mirror. Hearing light taps as he shoes moved around on the marble, a faint swish as his weapon of choice comes from his deep pocket.

"But you, beautiful, surprised me. Easy on the eyes, yes, but quite uh, dim witted. You were the big 'guy' getting me all those wonderful toys. Never got to say thank you," She hears him flick his tongue out to lick those red painted lips.

Dom keeps her eyes glued ahead to the open bathroom trying to keep herself from relapsing into another panic induced attack. Her fingers have dug themselves into the mattress as she he spoke. Moving around ever so slightly, taunting her with the promise of a smile. She feels a heat to her side as he stands there, eyes peering down and observing the way she sits so very still, breathing coming in cool waves. He moves himself as he is now standing in front of her, her eyes level with his chest. A gloved purple hand grips her clenched jaw as the Clown forces her to look up. She obliges though fearful. The flat side of the knife taps her cheek three times as if to try and get her attention.

"Quiet. Not something I expected… But you know what they say, 'Silence is Golden!'" He laughs while leaning down slightly to be a bit more level with her face but still having her stare up at him.

"See I've always had a problem with the Mob. Concerned about their money and power. Power that you all will never have while I'm here. But you, Dom, you supplied me with many things and also put a big hole in Arkham… Just so I could make this nice little house call. Ya know, doll, if ya wanted to see me so badly you could have came up there. I'm sure dear old daddy misses you," He smiles as her eyes narrow and her teeth grit together.

The cupid drifts down to the straps on the black teddy she wore before the panic attack, before sleeping. Their eyes stay locked on each other as she feels the cold metal against the contrast of her warm skin. The worry that he just might stab clean and clear through her chest drifts in and out every other second. She would reach out to push him away but at the moment she is trying to stay calm, no, more than calm. Trying to keep her heart from racing, her body from shaking. Her eyes stare up at his face, as he likes, but there is no doubt they trace on the jagged scars.

"Are you quiet because of the scars?" He asks as he brings her head forward.

Quickly a reply is brought on as she shakes her head viciously. There has been word that he brings up his mangled flesh right before his Cupid slices into the waiting flesh of his victims. Dom, in her opinion, is just too attractive for any type of 'accident' to happen. The sharpened utensil slices clear through the fabric of her strap, the broken side seeping down, threatening to reveal precious skin.

"No? Well isn't **that** a first. So you mean to tell me that the infamous Falcone daughter doesn't run off at those precious lips of hers?" The tip of his knife tapping her chin with his voice heightened.

"N-no. I mean yes… No," Fearful of his reaction.

"Yes, no, maybe so. Which one is it, Princess?" His gloved hand coming up to clench the roots of her ravenous hair.

Letting out a soften squeak of pain, she shuts her eyes. How the fuck did this circus reject make his way into her house? Two large dogs guard the area plus she is sure the alarm system is on, waiting to catch someone in the act of breaking and entering. Either he shot her beloved dogs and cut the alarm or he is severely crafty. Her thoughts are interrupted as he tugged harder on her hair meaning he wants his answer. Fluttering lids open as her gaze returns to the man made up in greasepaint.

"Yes… I do." Her voice coming back to her finally.

"You do?! My, my, isn't that shocking. A spoiled little Mob brat who doesn't mind spitting out orders," He lowers his stance completely now so that they are perfectly eyelevel, when he speaks again his voice is sharp, dangerous and low, "Give me an order, Dommy Dearest."

She stares at him fearfully.

"Go on. **Give. Me. An. Order."**

"No."

"**No?**" His hand on her hair clenches as he pulls her up from the bed and forces her body to fall to the floor.

"Lets get one thing straight," A foot comes to land on the small of her back, keeping her pinned to the ground, "I'm the better class of criminal in Gotham. I own this city. **I. Me. Only**. You Mob fools do nothing at all but lead others around on the whims of your 'greatness'."

Dom remains silent, completely fearful that he may get the better of her. This is out of character for her and she'll be the first to admit it. The Mobster doesn't hold her tongue to anyone but it seems that with the Clown Prince of Crime she is more than willing to. The pressure on her spinal cord is lifted as she breaths an exhale of relief until she hears him move around, his haggard shoes coming to face her lowly gaze. Hearing the joints pop as his knees bend to squat down before her, the plum leather gloves grip her defined jaw as she raises herself on her knees with the gathering force of his grip. Once again she is level with his sinister eyes as everything inside of her hardens.

"But you'll fall just as the others did," His fingers dancing to emphasis his point, "But you seem fun. The way your body constricts, the way those pretty little eyes of yours harden… You're staring fear in the face, aren't ya?" He smiles that bastardly smile, "Wonder what you'll be… a coward or a hero when you're at the end of my dear old friend," He holds his valued Cupid blade in the air as the moonlight catches a glimpse of it. With his grip tightened around the hilt he sends a forceful punch down to her delicate temple to knock her out stone cold.

* * *

**So I'm not a fan of having him knock people out just so they can wake up somewhere else but I did it. Thing is she won't wake up somewhere else other than that marble floor her father paid for. ;D **

**Thank you to all the reviewers, once again. It's going to perk up once there is more Joker and Dominique scenes I promise you. It is rated 'M' after all. Review if you'd like-- it's greatly appreciated.**


End file.
